


i'm wound up tighter than your jeans fit (you got me lit up like a cigarette)

by ladykestrel



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Gen, contains graphic language and cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 20:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4151358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladykestrel/pseuds/ladykestrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>red stamps, rejection letters, zoolander, and other things wrong with alina starkova's life</p><p>or; the one where alina didn't get to choose her neighbour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it has been about an year now since i wrote this for a sentence prompt on tumblr, with no real intentions of continuing it, aside from an odd thought about a prequel appearing once or twice. however, i got a request do to a new neighbors AU for this pairing, and i decided this was the perfect opportunity to revisit this.

Walking up to her apartment building’s entrance, Alina mentally groaned as she saw who stood in front it. It was like he _knew_ when Alina was on the move, and purposely ran into her every time she walked in or out of her apartment.  He followed her around like a second shadow - or a creepy stalker, depending how you looked at it. Alina wondered if it was too late to dash for the fire escape. 

Just as Alina was planning her grand outro, the person up front turned around and waved at her. It was too dark to see, even with the street lamps on, but Alina knew he had a shit-eating grin on his face. It wasn’t an _I’m-so-glad-to-run-into-you-neighbour_ grin. Oh no, it was a _I-totally-knew-you-were-coming-and-waited-up-on-purpose_ grin.  She groaned again. 

“Happy to see you too, neighbour,” the nuisance said, and Alina could now see his signature cocky half-smile taking residence on his face, making him look like he knew the secrets of the universe. Alina had the biggest urge to slap it off of him.

If they were in a superhero movie, this guy would definitely be her evil nemesis. _I bet his power would be annoying people to death,_ Alina thought.

Without saying anything in return, Alina pushed past him and dug out her keys from her pockets. She knew that if she didn’t unlock this door, he’d be standing there all night. The smug bastard knew it too. He deliberately “forgot” his keys every night and he was just waiting for _someone_ – “What makes you think I’m waiting specifically for you, Alina?” – to come and let him in the building.

“So,” she heard behind her. “How did job hunting today go?”

“None of your business,” Alina replied without turning around.

“Not good, I take it?”

“ _Fuck off_ , Zoolander.”

“Ouch. That hurt.” Alina could hear the amusement in his voice.

“Good,” she said. Then she went up to her mailbox, praying there was something, _anything_ , in there that wasn’t a rejection letter. A few letters fell down when she opened the box, and all of them had a big red stamp on them. _Fantastic,_ Alina thought.

“Ooh, no luck again, huh?”

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” Alina snapped.

“You know I’d help you out. All you have to do is say the word.”

“ I don’t want anything from you,” she snarled, turning to face his grey eyes. He was gorgeous, that Alina couldn’t deny. He was tall, lean, with just the right amount of muscle. His cheekbones were so high, they rivaled Everest. And _his jaw_! His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass. Add in the tousled ebony black hair, the hooded pale eyes, and this man was the perfect specimen of gorgeous. _Too bad he has to be such a prick_ , Alina thought.

Alina’s neighbour chuckled and went about his own mail - countless letters from 40-year-old women, no doubt. Hopefully there was a notice from the hospital, informing him that he had contracted some kind of venereal disease.

“Finally get those test results back?” Alina asked snarkily. “How many positives did you get?”

“Very funny, Alina,” he turned to her. “But you know I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Yeah,” she huffed. “Whatever you say, Magic Mike.”

“Hm, I might be willing to chance my policies, if you’re interested,” then the asshole actually wiggled his eyebrows. _Goddamn prick_ , Alina fumed.

“Screw you!”

“That _is_ what I’m offering,” was his reply.

“Are you always such a dick, or is that reserved specially for me?”

“What can I say? You bring out the best in me,” the smug bastard shrugged.

 Alina huffed and header for the elevator. She’d had enough of this guy for one night. She didn’t need to add him to the long list of things that were wrong in her life. She had bigger issues to take care of. Like finding a decent job. She couldn’t keep doing toothpaste commercials. She needed bigger roles, more rewarding ones. Roles that allowed her to pay the rent for this measly apartment. Already the mountain of red eviction notices was piling up in her trashcan.

***

A few days later, Alina was talking to Mal - her best friend, who she secretly had a crush on since kindergarten – when she saw him walking out of his apartment. Wanting to avoid another Battle of The Snarks, she quickly redrew into her own home.

“What was that, Al?” Mal asked, having heard the door slam through the phone.

“Oh, nothing,” Alina tried to play it casual. “I was just heading out but I forgot something so I went back, is all.”

“Is that Darkling guy bothering you again? What kind of a name is that anyway?”

“It’s not his real name, Mal, you know that.”

“Yeah, but why would anyone want to call themselves _the Darkling_?”

“Beats me. But it seems to work for the horny cougars that are dissatisfied with their marriages.”

Mal laughed and told her he had to run but she should call him the minute- no, the second she heard from those casting directors.

“Will do. Bye, Mal!” Alina said and hung up.

Little did Mal know that Alina had already heard from them, and that the answer had been a big fat no, ledged in between her bills and junk mail. Alina tried not to let it get to her, but it was getting harder and harder after every rejection she got.

***

One day, after a particularly bad day at the restaurant Alina served tables at, she came home to a letter in the mail. As she turned it over, Alina saw that it was from that very important audition she did a few weeks ago. Nervous and excited at the same time, she ripped the letter open and hurriedly began to read through the lines.

_Dear Miss Starkova,_

_We regret to inform you that you were not what we were looking for…_

Blinking back tears, Alina crushed the paper in her hand, crumbled it to a tiny ball, and hurled it at the wall. She knew that the building’s occupants were most likely asleep and she didn’t want to cause a scene, but it was hard not to yell out in frustration. She kicked at the mailboxes, finally letting the tears roll down her cheeks, before sliding down and curling up on the floor. It was a pathetic sight, she was sure, but the struggling actress had zero fucks to give about that right now.

She’d been sitting there for a while, when the front door’s bell jiggled and someone made their way inside the apartment building. Alina didn’t bother to look up to see who it was; she just didn’t have the strength. Her neighbors had already seen her in more embarrassing situations, after all. Like the time she had been moving in. It was funny to think about now, but her body was so racked with sobs, Alina couldn’t bring herself to laugh about anything. She just wanted to cry and yell and tear apart every rejection letter and every eviction notice and every tax, every red stamp that was sitting inside her shoe box of an apartment, mocking her.

“Bad day at the office?” Alina looked up to see none other than her nemesis, the Darkling prick in the flesh.

“I’m not in the mood for your shit right now, asshole.”

“Then what are you in the mood for?” the Darkling asked. “Anything I could help out with?”

“Yes, actually,” she replied. “You could go screw yourself.”

“Or you could assist me with that.”

Maybe if she hadn’t just been declined another role, maybe if she were in a better place, Alina would’ve continued to banter with him, just like every other night. But since she was just rejected another job opportunity, and she wasn’t in a better place, she started screaming at him. She yelled and called him every name in the book. She even went as far as to hit him in the chest, screaming about what an apathetic shithole he was. She called him a slut and a whore, despite very well knowing he never slept with his customers. He told her that numerous times during their tug-of-wars. She knew what had driven him to resort to stripping, she was in the same situation herself. And yet, in her rage, Alina still managed to insult him for everything he did and did not stand for.

She knew she had hurt him with the whore comments, she could tell by the stiff, controlled expression coloring his face. When she saw that she had drawn the line, Alina stopped. But she didn’t apologize. She’d find a way to make it up to him later, but for now, she just wanted him to get out of her face.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” Alina asked, exasperated.

Silence followed, and that silence was defeating. Alina could hear not a pin dropping, but the speckles of dust moving through the air. She looked the Darkling in the eyes one last time, and was surprised to see emotion in them. There was hurt, but there was also understanding. They were gone before she even had the chance to blink.

It took a while for the Darkling to form a response, and he only muttered something when Alina turned to leave. His words were so quiet, Alina wondered if she had imagined them.

“Then I’d be alone, too.”

***

Weeks went by and Alina didn’t see her neighbour. She flew through auditions like they were paper in the wind. Some she heard back from, other she didn’t. It was always the small parts, the commercials, that she got callbacks from. Alina was still miserable, however, she was happy there was money to bring home, no matter how small their amount was. She was still behind on rent, but at least she wasn’t getting an eviction notice every day. It was more of a weekly occurrence now, and that, for Alina, was a triumph. If only she had someone to share it with.

After her blow up in the building’s lobby, it dawned at Alina that she hadn’t made very many friends since moving here. Sure, there was Nikolai, the guy from 2B who occasionally hit on her, but Alina knew it was only half-heartfelt – she had seen him sneak around with the dude from 4A. There was Zoya, the Russian beauty who shot death glares at Alina every time she should pass.

And there was Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, who was the only person, that payed attention to her. Well, had payed. He hasn’t been around much since that night when Alina had called him a manwhore.  She regretted it now, and intended to apologize, but she hasn’t run into him since.

Now, not only was she miserable that she didn’t have a steady job – that she liked, mind you, the restaurant was hell and wasn’t even worth it, because the pay was shit, too – but she was also miserable about driving away the only – well, she wasn’t even sure what he was to her – friend, with a giant question mark, away.  Alina surprised herself that she had started calling the Darkling a friend these past few weeks, despite constantly wanting to claw his face off, and not even knowing his real name – she seriously doubted they had even properly met, he just kind of knew her name from the start. She found that she actually missed her daily tug-of-wars with him - so much that she started to seek him out.

 _Oh god_ , Alina realised one day when she was waiting up to see if she could catch him coming home. _I’m turning into him_.  But no matter how much she waited, he never showed.

***

After another few weeks, Alina finally got her wish. The Darkling was standing by her mailbox, arms crossed over his chest, obviously uncomfortable. Alina didn’t know how to act around him, now that they were finally face to face. She approached him slowly, like someone would approach a wild animal, afraid they’d go off at them.

“There was something of yours in my mailbox,” the Darkling spoke after a few beats of silence. “I thought you’d want it back.” Then he handed her an envelope, stamped with the crest of the network Alina had had an audition for a TV pilot a week ago. Hope swelled in her, but she quickly crushed it, not wanting to cause yet another scene, were she rejected, _again_.

“Thank you,” Alina replied tentatively and held out her arm to grab the letter from his hand.

“Ah,” the Darkling exclaimed, jerking his hand back suddenly. A version of his signature lopsided smile – this one less sure, not as confident as the original – graced his face. “You forgot to say the magic word.”

“Oh put a sock in it, Zoolander,” Alina playfully remarked. She was smiling now.

“Why do you always call me that?” the Darkling asked defensively, seemingly amused by the nickname.

“It’s because your pout.”

“My pout?”

“Yes, your pout. You pucker you lips like this,” Alina said and made a ridiculous duck face that made the Darkling snort. “You look like you’re doing the Blue Steel whenever you do that.”

The Darkling laughed, not a strained, uncomfortable laugh, not even a cocky chuckle. He gave out a full-on laugh, and it made Alina’s stomach curl with something that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“Do you want to open your letter?”

“Can you do it for me?” Alina pleaded. “I’m too anxious to do it.”

“Yes, and we don’t want a repeat of last time, now, do we?”

“I’m really sorry about that, I shouldn’t have-”

“No need to apologize,” the Darkling interrupted her. “Now, let’s see what is in this.”

Alina bit on her nails while he opened up the envelope and read through the letter. She was so anxious, she really wanted this role. It could not only be her big break, but if the network picked up the TV series, she’d have a regular job. She could finally quit serving tables at _the First Army_ \- which was a really weird name for a restaurant, if you asked her.  

“Dear Miss Starkova,” the Darkling began to read aloud. “We, here at the Little Palace network, kindly inform you that…” His voice carried off, grey eyes looking up from the letter to look at Alina’s dark brown ones.

“What?” Alina demanded. “What do they kindly inform me of? Just tell me, goddamn it!”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“That bad, huh?” Alina asked absentmindedly. _Yet another decline, what a surprise_.

“Oh, come now, sunshine. Don’t look so grim,” the Darkling cooed. “After all, you’re going to be a television star!”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” Alina yelled and grabbed the letter from his hands. “HOLY SHIT! I’M GOING TO BE IN A TV SHOW! I’M GOING TO BE IN A TV SHOW!”

“Don’t you think this calls for a celebration? C’mon, my apartment is just opposite of yours.”

“Oh shut up, Magic Mike!” And then Alina kissed him. She’d argue with herself later that she doesn’t know him, that she can’t stand him and his annoying smugness, but that was a different story, for a different day. Right now, she was happy.


	2. before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is how villain origin stories are born
> 
> or; the one where alina has one hell of a first day in the new apartment building and how she comes to meet the boy next door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this prequel chapter offers additional background information on alina and the darkling, and you learn about how their relationship came to be

It was a truth, universally accepted, that Mondays were shit. And Alina Starkova could not agree more.

She’d been excited at the prospect of her very own apartment. Her first apartment, and the freedom it would bring. She’d started looking for flats with decently prized rents at the beginning of her last semester at university, too ecstatic to wait. After a few failed attempts, the soon-to-be university graduate found a studio in a big brownstone building on the other side of town. She’d practically jumped up and down like the tiger from Winnie the Pooh when the deal was finalized. From then on it was only a countdown to moving day.

Alina wondered, as she thudded inside her new home, if all that excitement had really been worth it. Not even settled in properly yet and disaster upon disaster had struck her. Her soaked-through jeans were a friendly reminder. Alina tried not to think about those. Heat rose to her face and neck as she recalled the last twenty minutes. It should have been obvious, Alina thought, that the morning would crash and burn the second she tried to open the apartment building’s front doors only to have her key break at the base. 

“Ugh,” she grunted as her foot kicked a discarded box on the floor. That’s what cheap moving services got you. The whole place was a mess, boxes scattered on every flat surface in sight. Unpacking was going to be a bitch, Alina decided.

But first was shedding the wet pants and taking a long, steaming shower. Alina ripped the cardboard and tape on a box labeled toiletries, pulled out a towel and some shampoo, then headed for the bathroom. A bathtub rested in one of the corners, making Alina sigh in content. Wasting no time, she turned the knobs and quickly stripped down her clothes, sighing in relief when the jean’s soaked material peeled off her skin. Alina lowered herself into the tub and her muscles loosened at the water’s warmth and the sensations it sent throughout her body.

Eyes closed, Alina tried to forget the world, but her mind wouldn’t let her. It tried to convince itself, and her, that what happened in the lobby was not that bad. Surely, other people’s asses had landed in the same bucket. Hadn’t they?

Okay, the possibility of someone falling into that exact same bucket of cleaning water was next to highly unlikely, but accidents happened, and there were other unfortunate souls that had met their fate with their butts soaked…

Only, they probably hadn’t pulled the fire alarms on their way down.

Alina dunked her head underwater in an attempt to silence her brain. The earlier scene replayed itself over and over in her head, the splashing of filthy water getting louder and louder. Gasping for breath, the embarrassed girl resurfaced and tried to calm her thoughts. She kept seeing the looks her new neighbours had given her when they had emerged from their homes to see what was making such a commotion. Alina palmed her face as she recalled the Chief of the Fire Department and how he had eyed the darkening denim of her pants. This time her entire body flushed red with mortification.

It was not entirely bad, she supposed, as a memory of grey eyes and an outstretched hand flashed. That handsome stranger had been kind enough to help Alina out of the dirty bucket, barking at the staring spectators to fetch a towel. 

“It’s fine,” he’d told her with a voice dipped in honey. “You’re fine. It was just a little splash.” His eyes had bore into her so intensely that Alina let out an unflattering giggle, thus continuing her reign of embarrassment. That was when the stranger had smiled at her, showcasing a set of brilliant white teeth and a pair of dimples. The flushed girl had giggled some more.  


Alina wondered if the tub was deep enough to drown into. She sunk further, her head barely above the surface. 

As she reached over, Alina realised she’d forgotten to take soap with her. Groaning loudly, she grabbed the shampoo bottle and hoped it would do. She scrubbed her skin raw, wanting to flush all evidence of that morning down the drain. 

Later, when her skin had taken on the qualities of a 90-year-old woman’s appearance, Alina got out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel. Too tired, and if she were being honest, too lazy, to unpack, the girl walked the length of her new apartment in just a towel. The dirty, wet clothes were thrown in the washer, but since there was no washing powder or any other product, Alina simply left them there. She dug out a wafer from her purse and began munching on it.

***

It wasn’t until two weeks after that disaster of a move-in that Alina came face to face with the grey-eyed stranger again. Before, at their first - and only - meeting, Alina had only managed to squeak out a hurried thank-you before the fire department arrived and had begun to question her. It had been ridiculous, really, how many times she’d had to repeat that pulling the fire alarm lever had been an accident - she’d slipped on the let floor and reached out for something to balance her before she fell. That just so happened to be an emergency lever. There had been no fire, in the end, just a false alarm, but the firemen had still insisted on blowing the whole thing out of proportion, making Alina famous among her new neighbours all before she’d had the chance to properly introduce herself.

That had been the only interaction she’d had with her rescuer. 

Until, two weeks later, she encountered him at the building’s front door. He was busy rustling his keys, trying to find the one that fit. He must have heard her footsteps approaching, however, as he looked up at her. The same smile, the dimpled one, graced his beautiful face once again and Alina fought back the urge to stroke his cheek. The stranger turned his attention back to the task at hand. After a few more attempts, he managed to pry the door open. He pushed it wide and said, “After you.”

Alina smiled and nodded her thanks before stepping in the apartment building’s lobby. Unsure of what to do, she went over to her mailbox. It seemed that all locks in the building hated her, since Alina cursed under her breath while trying to twist the key in. When she finally managed to free her mail, the girl turned toward the stairs to see her saviour climbing them one by one. He turned to her then, as if sensing her gaze, and flashed Alina another smile. She felt suddenly shy and heat rose to her cheeks, but she grinned up at him anyway.

***

As the days went by, Alina got more and more down on her luck. She had started measuring time by the rejection letters piling up in the trashbin. After the first twenty, Alina no longer had the strength to rip them to shreds. Now, she simply walked in and threw them away whole. 

In need of a stable job to pay the rent (and possibly get by on something other than home-made sandwiches), Alina had gone out looking for places that were hiring. She’d snatched up a waitressing gig at a restaurant called The First Army. It was not the best place in the world, nor was the pay high enough for her to afford a luxurious lifestyle, but it was enough to get by. For now. And Alina needed a job more than she could afford to like it. She could no longer live off her aunt Anya’s back, no matter how much Anya insisted she could. The work shifts were long, often continuing well into the night, and Alina stumbled home in her waitress uniform in a haze, almost too tired to keep her feet moving. (The only advantage was that the restaurant was not far from the apartment. Alina sent out her thanks to the skies above.)

Her only highlight was the nightly encounters with her handsome rescuer - whom, turns out, lived just across the hall from her - and their brief but pleasant chats. It had started out with just the smiles from across the lobby, but one night they’d just struck up a conversation and it all had gone from there. Now, for at least five minutes, Alina felt happy. She now eagerly awaited the ends of her shifts each night.

The stranger, she’d found out, was called the Darkling. He refused to give any other name. “Why the Darkling?” she’d asked.

“That’s my stage name, at the club where I work at.” And that was how Alina also had found out her neighbour was a stripper. 

After that, she’d avoided all work-related talk. 

Alina was surprised to also realize the Darkling had known her name from the start. She never introduced herself to him, and she never really noticed until one night, when he said her name in a more intimate sort of way, that Alina wondered where he’d found out. When she’d interrogated him on it, the Darkling had just smirked and bid her good-night.

***

Months later, the peaceful late-night chats came to a screeching halt.

Alina walked into the building, sullen from the Darkling’s absence out on front, when she caught him by the mailboxes, ripped envelope in hand. He was frowning.

“Bad news?” Alina observed.  


“I’m afraid so…” the Darkling trailed off, handing her the letter. Alina saw who it was addressed to and her blood boiled.  


“You’ve been reading my mail?” she all but yelled.

“Just this one.” Alina ripped the envelope from his grip. She was fuming by now. How dare he touch her things!  


“Who gave you the right? This is private, for me only!”  


“It was sticking out of your mailbox, so I took a look at it.” His only defense was a casual shrug. He was pouting out his lips like Derek fucking Zoolander. The nerve of him.

“You took a- What makes you think you can just walk up to somebody else’s mailbox and _look_ at their mail? How the hell do you even know which mailbox is mine?”  


“I’ve seen you open it a thousand times, Alina.”  


She growled in her rage. The urge to kick something, to kick _him,_ was almost overpowering her. Alina turned away from him, heading for the stairs.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” the Darkling called out.  


“Go fuck yourself, Magic Mike.” Alina stomped on the steps and then slammed her apartment door so hard it reverberated. Looking at the letter in the confines of her own home, Alina read its contents and slid down the wall. Another rejection. Tears slid down her cheeks, coming in waves.  


***

It was a while when the Darkling started waiting up on her again. He always tried to engage Alina into talking with him. At first, she brushed him off, gave him the cold shoulder, the silent treatment, however he wanted to call it. But her neighbour seemed to be a persistent sort of man, and so the Darkling kept on pushing. He made jokes and tried to lighten the mood, to break the ice. One night Alina snapped, retorting with a heavily sarcastic remark. The Darkling just smirked and bantered some more. It became a ritual, for them to bark at each other, throwing around sarcasm and bickerings each night. Alina never grew back into liking the Darkling as she had before he invaded her privacy, and her irritation grew more and more, it seemed, with each snarky comment, but she always had a snarky comeback of her own.

**Author's Note:**

> +main title is from every avenue's hit me where it hurts the most;


End file.
